Jackson Macintosh Lulu
Tickled by a sort of truth I thought I'd get the phone and call you
I was waiting in a room you're on your way but something stalled you
My pack of Peter Jackson Blacks are on a stack of old New Yorkers
You don't pick up so I light up and forget what I meant to tell you
(Just gimme a second)
You swept in like a broom, the dust makes way for Lulu
I've been hiding in my room, you walked around like no one knew you
Everybody's got a weakness and I think that I've found mine